


Justice For All

by CaptainMcCloud



Category: Toontown Online
Genre: AU i guess?, Gen, I could list characters but it'd be like... 45 cogs and an OC, anyway the teen rating is preemptive and erring on the side of caution, lmao who am i kidding none of yall care about the tags on this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMcCloud/pseuds/CaptainMcCloud
Summary: Kea Lymepie suddenly finds himself in a hostile work environment with two options: Accept his unwanted position in the Lawbot Ethics and Standards division, or try to make an escape.





	1. A Brief Prologue

I could barely tell what was happening to me. One instant, I was relaxing on a street bench, the next, I was being yanked into an alley, a pair of metal arms wrapped around my chest, a hand over my mouth, keeping me silenced. I panicked, frantically reaching for my portable hole, before it was snatched from my pocket.  
"Won't be needing that, now, will you?"  
I looked down, noticing the distinctive Lawbot suits my attackers wore. These guys weren't usually like this, but they seemed impossibly strong. I kept trying to squeeze out of their grip, but to no avail.  
"Whack him, just make sure your comedic timing is off, or it won't do jack."  
"Gotcha."  
"Or just choke 'im. Take your pick," he spat, encouragingly, but clearly out of patience.  
"Why waste time?"  
Suddenly, a surprisingly beefy hand swung around, delivering a swift blow to my jaw. In an instant, I was out. The last thing I felt before I fully lost consciousness was being thrown over a cold, hard, shoulder, before the sound of propeller blades drowned out everything else. After that, there was nothing.


	2. Rude Awakening

I woke up some time later with a massive headache. I was laying over a metal crate, wearing something far, far, heavier than I was used to. I knew where I was. I didn't want to be here. If I just kept still, maybe they'd leave me alone. For now, I opted to eavesdrop on the growling yet tinny voices around me.  
"Looks like your 'assistant' still isn't awake, birdbrain," came a tremendously unpleasant growling whine.  
"Look, I may enjoy him, but he's not my assistant."  
"Management sent him. You're the highest rank among us. He's yours by default."  
"I don't even need an assistant! I'm on the fast track to becoming the best lawyer the CJ has."  
"When was the last time you worked a case?"  
"Doesn't matter. I've got a degree. Nobody else has a degree."  
His tone incredibly self-pleased, almost songlike. "You made that with office pens and printer paper."  
At this point, I realized I couldn't particularly move if I wanted to. I'd attempted to stir, but the most I'd been able to manage was a couple of quick twitches and a dull groan.  
"Easy does it. The paralytic will probably take some time to wear off. After that, you've got forms to copy and envelopes to fill."  
The caring words were offset by a supremely apathetic tone. Another twitch ran through my body, followed by a heavy cough. I cracked my eyes open enough to see that I was draped delicately over a pair of crates, and that I was wearing a remarkably classy suit, in Lawbot colors. It was incredibly comfortable, too. Expertly tailored. Unfortunately, I quickly remembered that I had been kidnapped, and now, evidently recruited for something.  
"What do y-you want m-me to d-do?"  
"That's the spirit."  
The motivating phrase was uttered almost as if one would say "it's about time." A Bottom Feeder strolled by my crates. He dropped a sheaf of papers on my crates, the front page stamped with "Ethicality of Cyborgs."  
"Read this over. Then have a chat with birdbrain."  
It took me a good twenty minutes to get through the text. It was a lengthy series of documents in response to a suggestion by the Bossbots, to use the occasional Toon rather than a skelecog in some high level Cogs. Fortunately no details were given on the purposed process, and the vast majority of the document was on why it would be an awful idea, not just for moral and practical reasons, but political ones. I got up, still somewhat amazed at how comfortable the suit I'd been given was. It stood in stark contrast to my gloves, which it seems the Cogs weren't able to remove, either, being something of a permanent fixture on the design of any Toon. I strolled over to the Eagle's desk, dropping the sheaf on it. He looked up at me, seeming excited to hear what I had to say.  
"This is all hypotheticals, right?"  
His tone was passionate and cheerful.  
"We're trying to keep it that way, yes."  
I was fairly taken aback, he said this as if it happened all the time. "I'm sorry, you say that as if there's a possibility that this could happen. Want to try that one again? Because that's a bit grim, even for you lot."  
"Well, first we've got to convince the Justice of it. Then they'll pull some strings and it'll be thrown into the bin of certifiably awful executive ideas. Also, you're taking your situation very well. Do you want something to eat? You people eat, right?"  
"For starters, I take it this isn't the first time something like this has happened. Secondly, yes, I'm starving."  
"Bingo. Also, do you really not have any words about being kidnapped?"  
Somehow, something in his tone drove me over the edge. I lunged forwards, wrapping my fist around his tie, and yanked him forwards. My voice was a low growl.  
"I have plenty of words, but I thought I'd try to do something positive with my situation."  
"I think that was the single most polite semi-rant I've ever heard. I need you to draft a memo for management. Thank them for sending you."  
"And what happens if I don't?"  
"Nothing, really, but you can't really go anywhere, and I'm not entirely sure why you'd want to. You have no friends."  
"HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I DO-"  
"Literally every single Toon keeps their entire social circle written down on a piece of paper that they carry with them. I don't know why you do it, it's kind of weird, but you do it."  
I broke my scowl to sigh softly.  
"Yeah, I guess you're right."  
"Also we can only pay you in food."  
"Deal."  
"Great! Now go work on that memo, right after you let go of my tie."


	3. Promotion

A good few weeks passed as I got settled into my new position. All in all, things weren't bad. I'd taken this time to not only get used to black coffee and tuna salad (virtually all I ate, as it was what was usually in the break room and I wasn't invited to meals), but to get to know my coworkers. First, there was Beaksy, the eagle I'd attempted to strangle. Initially the name was a petty insult from me, but he'd decided he liked it. Then there was Jerry, a cold and resigned ambulance chaser who cared about the state of his hat more than his own life. He wasn't a particularly good lawyer, but he was assigned to us, and he was an alright guy. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was the reason I woke up paralyzed and slumped over my "desk," which was actually two crates lined up with an old office chair. Finally, there was a bottom feeder. He didn't say much of anything. His name tag said he was a janitor, but I saw him writing reports and papers all the time. He seemed alright, though. I came to enjoy my situation, despite the bad coffee, and stale bagels. Law fascinated me, and dry Cog humor was right up my alley. It definitely wasn't where I'd imagined myself, but I wasn't terribly inclined to go back.

My train of thought was interrupted by Beaksy whistling for me. I leapt up, jogging into his office, straightening my bow tie as I entered.  
"Yeah?"  
I was met with his typical somewhat off grin, always seeming like he was enjoying what he was doing, even if he didn't quite know what that was. He handed me a thin case file.  
"Congratulations, Kea! You're a lawyer, now."  
I was somewhat taken aback.  
"I-I'm sorry?"  
I raised an eyebrow, not sure that I had heard him right.  
"Basically, there's a Toon that's going to be on trial later today-"  
I raised my other eyebrow, absolutely sure that I had heard him right.  
"Wait, today?"  
"Yep, you'd better work fast. Anyway, the powers that be want him in a six by three cell for a good long time, and we've got to provide him with an unbiased defense of like... at least roughly the same species."  
"What did he even do?"  
"No idea. Go get em."

About an hour later, I was sitting in a hot, cramped, room with an angry orange mouse. I lazily flipped through his file, while he flung insults at me. He was facing a pretty hefty purposed sentence for the illegal theft of non-suit Cog parts.  
"What kind of a name is Max Loopenloop, anyway?"  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kea Lymepie, I'm sure you'd know nothing about bad names."  
I rubbed my forehead, sighing.  
"Fair point. Look, I'm only here because I got promised some sugar for my coffee if I did it, and because my boss is a very nice and convincing guy."  
He froze, shocked and very much appalled.  
"Wait a sec, you're not a volunteer?"  
I adjusted my tie again.  
"Nope. I work here."  
"So, uh, did they force you, or did you betray us?"  
"Neither, but I guess I'm kind of a traitor now. I mean, I'm not really intent on le-"  
"Then what kind of representation are you? You're not unbiased, you're not educated, I don't care! I'll take the sentence. What's the worst that'll happen, anyway?"  
I dropped the file, staring him dead in the eyes.  
"Well, according to recent theory, you'll die."  
"That's just a hypothetical, right?"  
Suddenly, this very big mouse sounded very, very, small. "Yeah, but it's a very likely one. So, tell me everything you can, or you'll absolutely be thrown in a box you can barely stretch your arms out in until your existence literally starts to become unmade from sheer boredom and loneliness and fear. Or, you can cooperate, I can defend you, and you can keep on perpetually living."

There was complete silence in the room for almost a full two minutes.

"You've... you've made your point."

I spent half an hour talking with him. Things seemed pretty open and shut, one of the old Trolleybots needed a new gear, and he'd snagged one from the Sellbot Factory. Fair enough, preservation of history and all, and something's gotta lose at tug of war. However, he got caught on his way out when his hat got caught in a door and he spent a little too much time trying to pry it out, and a little too little time noticing the Mover and Shaker coming up behind him.

"And you couldn't have just grabbed one off the street? There's always a good few around after a battle." "I was never very smart."  
I laughed softly, not shocked.  
"Right you are. Anyway, I think I might be able to get you out, not entirely sure, but fake it 'til you make it, am I right?"  
"Are you sure you're a lawyer?"  
"Buddy, I got my certification this morning. I'm positive."  
"That doesn't inspire confidence either."


	4. Unfortunate Circumstances

By the time we walked into the courtroom, I was less confident in our case than ever. I was shaking, my client was shaking, and the jury was trying to hold back laughter. The judge was a Big Wig. The prosecutor, was also a Big Wig. There were sneers and whispers all across the board, which did not inspire confidence. The judge's voice boomed throughout the courtroom.  
"Mr. Lymepie, how does your client plead?"  
"Guilty, but we ask you not to prosecute for several reasons, your honor."  
"Mr. Lymepie, you can't do that."  
At this point, Max lost it at me.  
"Wait, what do you MEAN we can't? My lawyer-"  
The judge sighed, rubbing his forehead.  
"He's not a lawyer."  
Max continued with his outburst.  
"Well if HE-"  
He gestured wildly at me.  
"-isn't a lawyer, then THIS isn't-"  
The judge leaned back, relaxing.  
"He's not a lawyer and this isn't a fair trial. We just have him here because he amuses us."  
"What?! You guys are Lawbots! Legal and fair is all you're supposed to do!"  
At this point, it occurred to me that I couldn't speak, and that my hands were shaking wildly. Soon, my knees gave out, and I was left on the floor, barely able to breathe. The prosecutor started to sound worried. I heard him get up, and walk over to me, bending down and rolling me over. My chest hurt. I could barely move. Max was throwing his hands up in the air in defeat, and yelling something I couldn't quite hear. I closed my eyes, groaning.  
"Your honor, the defense appears to be too afraid of imminent loss to proceed."  
I heard the judge stand up, his tone much less mocking.  
"Lose the attitude, prosecution, I think he's having a panic attack. Someone get him help!"

The next time I opened my eyes, I was exhausted. The room I was in was dim, and cramped, but cozy. The walls were lined with dusty boxes of files, and I'd been wrapped snugly in a blanket. Shakily, I stood up, throwing the blanket around my shoulders. Just as I reached for the door handle, it swung open. Beaksy stood before me, looking supremely worried.  
"Kea, are you feeling alright?"  
His voice was laden with concern.  
"I feel like I've just run a marathon, but other than that, yeah."  
He reached forward to touch my forehead, and I gently pushed him away. He looked down at me, looking far more like a curious bird than anything else.  
"If you're sure. Anyway, I've got good news and bad news."  
"Let's hear it."  
"Good news is, your client's purposed punishment got dropped. Now the worst he's looking at is a mark on his record and a watchful eye."  
I let out a sigh of relief. At least the situation wasn't nearly as severe now.  
"Bad news is, you've probably got General Anxiety Disorder."  
"I'm sorry, what?"  
I'd never heard of it before, and while intimidated somewhat, wasn't entirely sure what to think.  
"Basically, you're prone to things like, well, that, happening. It's somewhat uncommon, and potentially dangerous due to the mental effects, but I think you'll be able to manage it just fine."  
I was somewhat taken aback.  
"What do you mean by 'dangerous,' there?"  
Beaksy sighed softly.  
"I don't need to tell you that your mental and physical health are directly linked. Anxiety itself can be very physically taxing for you people, and the attacks and flareups are, well, you've been through one."  
I stared at him somewhat blankly.  
"Okay, how do we fix it?"  
He gently patted my head.  
"We don't."  
"What do you mean?"  
He kept petting, his hand seemingly doing as it pleased while his mind wandered elsewhere.  
"You can't. Kea, this isn't like a cold, or a fever, or something like that. It's more like... like an allergy to something. You might be born with it, or you might develop it, and you can take medication to manage it if you need to, but you can't cure it, and it won't go away. You might get less sensitive, but it won't be cured."  
I sat down, somewhat stunned.  
"So... uh... I just have to live with this, now?"  
Beaksy sat down next to me, rubbing his face against my shoulder.  
"If you have it, yes. We aren't entirely sure. You've shown a good number of symptoms, though, so it's a pretty safe bet."  
"I'm not sure what to think."  
He wrapped an arm around me.  
"That's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm lowkey considering making this into a visual novel just to throw in a soundtrack.


End file.
